Wordstorm
by Latteas
Summary: Many people assume Owain is stupid. The truth is he can keep up with the best of them. Or perhaps even outperform them...


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 **A/N:** Inspiration for this comes from a dictionary. More specifically, I had to pull out a dictionary for a word that Owain used, but never Laurent or Miriel.

As a note this is slight crack and no real research or science has been done on my end.

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"So in this scenario, the transmolecular fusion - with unseen particles of magic and the physical atoms of rare metals - will allow a transfer of magical energy from the blade to its wielder. This makes an approximately five minute delay before maximum effectivity can be achieved," Laurent summarized.

"That is the theory we are attempting to divulge. However, I have ascertained that the transfer of magical energy is instantaneous. As such, it is inconceivable that is the way it functions," Miriel stated.

"The evidence to prove your prior claim come from tomes, correct?" Laurent asked.

"Of course. An offensive, or otherwise, tome is effective from the moment you pick it up."

Laurent frowned. "So the metals used in forging the weapon may be a resistor to magical energy? If we could replace that metal with-" he was cut off by a new entry into the tent.

"Ho, Laurent."

"Owain," Laurent groaned as his hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose. "What brings you to my location?"

"Our venerable leader has called for your intellectual prowess. He feels that your powerful mind will be able to unravel our most vexing conundrums," Owain stated in his usual loud and boisterous voice.

"I'm intrigued." Miriel stated simply. "Why would Chrom want my progeny rather than me? My time and resources spent in military should place my candidacy higher, should it not?"

"Hark! Though my heroic uncle has yet to spill his reasoning to me, I can guess that Laurent is more valued because he tries to ascertain the value in the world's constant truths: while you devote all your time to uncovering the endless mysteries of the cosmos."

"I had not considered this process of thought. It is true many of our comrades have asked the impetus for many of my experiments, and the only answer I could distribute was that it was in a pursuit for knowledge," Miriel admitted.

Laurent sighed. He had vast reserves of patience, yet those war councils were to be avoided at any cost. "Must I go?" He asked with a sigh.

Owain instantly looked sheepish. "I wasn't interrupting a major breakthrough, was I?"

"Perish the thought. We were just opening a new line of inquiry regarding "Brave" weaponry," Miriel stated.

Owain strode over from the tent flap to where the sword rested. "A brilliant specimen! The smooth and crisp edges contrast perfectly with the gleaming silver color. The edge is razor sharp: capable of rending the hardest of armors. I can feel its power flowing through my veins already!"

Miriel pushed her glasses up. "Do you actually feel magical resonance flowing through your veins? Or was that part of your artistic flair?"

Owain looked dumbfounded: someone had actually found the hidden meaning in his words. "Ah! You have never had the glory of wielding a brave weapon. A tragedy worthy of the greatest plays."

"No. I have not…" Miriel admitted.

"While the power of a weapon will always make my blood boil - and my sword hand twitch, brave weaponry pours additional power through my blood. I feel empowered beyond mortal reckoning and comprehension. I achieve the power of gods, I feel as if Walhart is but an ant in my path, I feel as if the ninja of legend would fall before me. I feel Owain Dark slipping, and a more powerful form taking place. I feel as though I am Owain Shadow, the harbinger of darkness and righteous retribution upon my foes," Owain ended his speech with a massive crescendo in his voice, and his sword hand started twitching uncontrollably.

"I finally can empathize with those conversing with myself…" Miriel muttered. "Would you care to repeat that statement?"

"A normal weapon gives me no benefit from the weapon itself. A brave weapon makes me stronger and faster," Owain summarized.

Miriel jotted a quick note in her open notebook while Owain was bouncing on his feet with excitement: someone was finally taking him serious; it brought a single tear to his eye.

Laurent looked awkward.

"Now then, does this 'empowerment' happen immediately, or is it delayed?" Miriel asked.

"That depends on the power of the weapon I'm holding! A sword like this granted me no boon in strength immediately. Hence I started my act-"

"-My blood took some time to start boiling!" Owain covered smoothly, and somehow made a fair amount of sense: Miriel jotted another note in her log. "However, when I wield a sword that gleams far less spectacularly than the specimen in this room, I find my blood have lit on fire like it was made of oil."

"One day, a few week yonder, I found myself in possession of a brave weapon black as night. It looked like Nyx herself had crafted the weapon from the ebony of her hair that surrounds the infinite cosmos. I laid a singular finger upon the beautifully crafted hilt, and the fire in my veins immediately reached its crescendo! I removed my finger and found the power instantly leave me. I found this most peculiar: even from the highest quality of brave weaponry the power takes a few moments to arrive and recede."

"So from your experience, the greater the white gradient in a blade, the longer the magical resonance takes to empower you, _and_ rescind the power?" Miriel clarified.

"It is as you say, Wellspring of Truth," Owain confirmed.

"Fascinating…" Miriel said in awe. Provided his observations weren't embellished, this was the largest breakthrough she'd had in this field yet. "Did you feel the texture of the black, brave weapon?"

"It was smooth and slick: like a wet stone from a river. It's sheen was unparalleled despite the blade being the darkest of hues. It was… perfection," Owain finished in a whisper.

Miriel nodded, jotted a few notes down, and consulted a large tome with a worn leather cover. She was double checking it now; provided that his information was all true, there was only one possible metal that it could be made of.

"Weren't you supposed to take me to a war council?" Laurent asked.

Owain blinked once before he dashed out of the tent with Laurent in tow.

Miriel was left alone with a picture of the supposed metal.

"Chromium."

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 **A/N:** I get it. The punchline was awful. Leave a review if you enjoyed.


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